Caroline Lamb

* * *

Would I had seen thee dead and cold,
In thy lone grave asleep,
Than live, thy falsehood to behold,
And penitent to weep:
For better, I thy grave could see,
Than know that thou art false to me!


Or rather, would that I had died,
When happy on thy breast-
My love had then been satisfied,
And life's last moments blest,
For they taste bliss without alloy,
Who die in the sweet dream of joy!


But no! I feel the fault was mine,
To think affection's chain
Could thy proud wayward heart confine,
When honor's claim was vain:
Who robs the shrine where virtue lies,
Will not the stolen relic prize!